Part 4

Potter was standing on the doorstep. He entered, and said, ‘Sorry to disturb you, but it’s rather important I should see you at once, Kirkdale.’

Clausen offered to go. Potter stopped him, saying, ‘It doesn’t signify. It’ll be all over the place to-morrow. Only I thought I owed it to Kirkdale here to warn him.’

‘Well, come in; sit down and have a smoke.’

‘I don’t mind if I do; I want to settle myself a little. To tell the truth, we’ve had a hell of a row.’

‘Ah!’ said Kirkdale, feeling his blood run cold, ‘it’s all out, then?’

‘What, you knew? And you allowed such a man to associate with your mother and sisters. You must be mad.’

‘Yes, I suppose I am. What has occurred?’

‘I suspected Travers, from the first time I saw him. Then Maisy came home charmed with him. You’ll pardon my saying so, but I always regard that as a bad sign; I find she has a natural affinity for rogues.’

Clausen chuckled.

‘I admit it. I am no exception. I am no doubt a rogue myself, but that doesn’t make me inclined to tolerate other rogues. I met this Travers at the club two or three times, and I noticed him playing at cards. To-night I proposed a game of _écarté_, and gave him a good chance for his particular little game. I caught him in the very act, and, as I have said, there was a devil of a row.’

‘What has become of him?’

‘Well, after we had made it sufficiently clear to him that we did not desire more love and knowledge of him, he went out into the void. I followed shortly after and came here, thinking he possibly might have come to give you his version of the affair, and there might be another chance of wigs on the green. My blood’s up now. That’s the worst of a nature like mine. Just as I get thoroughly roused and interested everything is over. And my blood has to simmer down again in a desolation of peace and good humour.’

‘He hasn’t been here. But I’ll tell you what, Potter, I’d have given a thousand pounds not to have had this happen to-night.’

‘I’m very sorry, Kirkdale, but next time you propose to bring a cardsharper and blackguard into your family circle you had better take us into your confidence, so that we can have some common basis of operations. Good night, Clausen. Good night, Stephen. Better luck next time, eh!’

* * * * *

Grace Lovell was lying asleep when a hansom cab drove up. Travers opened the door of the cottage with a latch-key, and bursting into her room told her to give him a couple of sovereigns without delay. She scrambled up, opened her little desk, and produced the money. He paid his cab, then came in, sat down heavily on the side of the bed, and breathed hard for a moment or two. Suddenly he fell forward on the floor. She sprang to his side, wetted his face, loosened his collar, held smelling salts to his nose, but for a long time it seemed to her his heart had altogether ceased to beat. Presently he moved slightly, and she renewed her efforts to revive him, calling him by all the endearing terms she could think of. At last he put out his arm and held her gently against him, whispering that she was his darling wife. She nestled close to him and kept perfectly still, waiting for him to speak. After a long time he opened his eyes and sat up; she begged him to lie down on the bed, which he did, but it was some time before he spoke. Then he said, ‘It’s all up, Gracie, I’m a ruined man. I shall have to go away.’

‘What has happened, my dearest?’

‘They have done for me between them. You know I told you that I knew a good deal more than some people would like to set about; well, they came to hear of it, and they have made use of one of their agents, a despicable man, to ruin me in the eyes of society. He induced me to play _écarté_ with him; he manipulated the cards in such a way that I should appear to be cheating; then he denounced me before the whole club, and they believed him. I had to go.’

‘O George, why didn’t you turn the tables on him, and tell them what he had done?’

‘My dear child, it’s no use a woman supposing she can understand these things; you must take what I tell you on trust; don’t keep making idiotic suggestions, and asking idiotic questions. I tell you it was so, that should be enough for you.’

‘Yes, George. What are you going to do?’

‘God knows.’

‘George.’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you sure you didn’t do it?’

‘Didn’t what?’

‘Didn’t cheat.’

‘Of course not, of course not! Oh, do go to sleep. I’ve talked until I’m wearied out. I shall go up to the house now.’

‘Are you well enough?’

‘Don’t bother,’ and he went out banging the door after him. He lay in bed all day on Monday. About five o’clock he ordered some tea, and played with little Pierre, then he got up and dined. He did not go down to the cottage until about ten o’clock. He found Grace busily engaged packing up. He lounged in, and said, ‘What _are_ you doing?’

‘I am going up to London.’

‘What for?’

‘I am going back to Horsham’s Theatre.’

‘No, you are not.’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘How dare you speak to me like this?’

‘Because I dare speak to any one like this, when I do not love them.’

‘Oh! oh! that’s it, is it? We’ll see,’ and he came towards her threateningly.

She stood perfectly still, looking straight into his eyes. He dropped his hands and sat down, saying sneeringly, ‘I always thought women were brutes, now I see it’s perfectly true.’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘women are brutes. If you had loved me, if you had believed in me, and trusted me last night, nothing would have made me leave you. I should not have cared if you had been a thief, or a murderer perhaps.’ Here he interrupted her.

‘Oh, don’t let us have all these heroics. I know it all: you’d go to hell for me, wouldn’t you, as long as I feed your insatiable passion for admiration? I’m sick of women and their melodramas.’ She stood still looking at him. ‘I’ll just tell you the plain facts of the case,’ he continued more calmly. ‘Our love was of that resistless kind, brought about when the appetite is so strong that every other faculty, all prudence, all considerations of every sort, are thrust on one side to gratify it. I admit it is a very charming state of things for the parties concerned, while it lasts, but it does not last long. Our delirium is over. You are a woman full of dreams and imaginations; you worry me with the persistent foolishness of your ideas and ideals. I am a man who knows all the moves, and the long and short of it is that I know how to play the game; you do not.’

‘I shall soon learn, and perhaps my game will not be such a losing one as yours has been.’

‘No one can tell, but the game is over sooner or later, and then it doesn’t matter much whether you have lost or won, the pleasure is in the game itself.’

‘Perhaps it does matter.’

‘I don’t think so. What really matters is letting your chessmen rule you, that is what all mediocre people do.’

‘Why have you never talked seriously to me before?’

‘Because you were in love with me.’

‘What a horribly unscrupulous wretch you are!’

‘In his relations with women a man has to act two parts: at first he must be Adam, young, ardent, and resistless, then he must be the serpent, able to teach her all wisdom of the world.’

‘And is neither part a serious one?’

‘That depends upon the woman. Now we’ll talk things over quietly. You want to go back to Horsham’s Theatre?’

‘Yes.’

‘But it’s no use your going on as you used to do.’

‘No. I know I was very bad, but I think I shall be better now.’

‘Well, let’s see what you’ve got in you, and then I shall know what is to be done.’

He put her through the balcony scene in _Romeo and Juliet_, making her cry with his severity, torturing her, and finding fault in every possible way with her efforts to express the feeling of the words she uttered. At the end of it she stood hopeless and dumfoundered at the new world opening before her. For the first time it dawned on her what acting really meant. She looked timidly at Travers. He was sitting in a chair watching her doubtfully. He said, ‘Yes, that’s very good. You work away at that, and we’ll do them all yet.’

‘You think I can go back to Horsham’s Theatre?’

‘No, I do not. But I’ll tell you what we will do. I’ll run you through the States as a star, and then I’ll bring you over to England as a new American actress. We’ll do them yet.’

‘But who is to pay?’

‘I’ll find the money, don’t you worry your head about that.’

* * * * *

On the following Tuesday the waiter at the Crown Hotel, Cowes, respectfully informed Lady Kirkdale that Mr. Potter had sent the pinnace of the _Sunflower_ to convey their ladyships on board.

‘I suppose, as Kirkdale hasn’t arrived yet, you and I will have to go by ourselves,’ said Lady Kirkdale.

‘It’s a very funny thing he should suddenly change his mind and leave us in the lurch like this.’

‘Perhaps Mr. Travers will be able to give us some information; he is to be with the Potters to-day, I believe.’

‘I thought he would have called on us this morning. I didn’t understand, Maisy, that he was to stay on board with them. Don’t you think it’s rather odd of the Potters to ask him to stay there when Kirkdale hasn’t anywhere to go to?’

‘A great many things in this life are odd, my dear, and I’m afraid my thinking won’t alter them, so I don’t trouble my head.’

As Geraldine climbed the side of the yacht she looked in vain for Travers.

‘What has happened to everybody?’ she said to Maisy the moment she could take her aside.

‘Why? what have you heard?’ asked Maisy doubtfully.

‘Nothing. Kirkdale has not sent a word of explanation. I thought we should get an explanation from Mr. Travers, but he is not here either.’

‘Come down to my cabin a minute,’ said Maisy, leading the way into an exceedingly shipshape-looking little apartment, full of the typical _multum in parvo_ contrivances which have been invented for the convenience of those who have little space at command. They sat down on the locker, and Maisy began--

‘A dreadful thing has happened, and I don’t know how to break it to mamma, I’m sure.’

‘To whom?’

‘Of course, I think Kirkdale terribly to blame for not making sure first----’

‘What are you talking of? Is Kirkdale dead?’

‘No, no, what nonsense! I mean he should have made sure of Mr. Travers.’

‘Good God, Maisy! you will drive me mad. Is Mr. Travers dead? Say yes or no.’

‘Perhaps it would be better if he were.’

‘Has he had an accident? Is Kirkdale nursing him?’

‘I tell you he’s quite well. You won’t let me explain properly what has happened.’

‘Go on,’ said Geraldine, in a dull, toneless voice.

‘He played a game of _écarté_ with Robert at the club on Saturday night, and Robert found out that he was cheating him.’

‘What did Robert do?’

‘Well, he watched him very carefully, and when he was quite sure he got up and told him he would not play any more with him.’

‘Then what happened?’

‘The members of the club were very angry, I believe, and agreed that Mr. Travers should not be re-admitted.’

‘I think Robert behaved abominably.’

‘Why?’

‘I think he owed it to Kirkdale to shield his friend. What does it matter whether a man cheats at cards or not? Everybody cheats, at other things besides cards, in their own particular way.’

‘My dear Geraldine, how often have I told you we must take things as we find them? It is considered wrong for men to cheat at cards, and it disgraces them. It is not considered very wrong for women to cheat at cards; people rather expect it, and laugh at it. It’s no use arguing about it. It is so, and there’s an end of it.’

‘Why should there be one law for men and another for women?’

‘I don’t know, I dare say there are some things winked at in a man which would not be permitted to women. I don’t know what they are, but one never can tell.’

‘What will Mr. Travers do?’

‘Disappear.’

‘O Maisy, how dreadful! I expect he is terribly hard up. Can’t we help him?’

‘I expect Kirkdale is seeing after him. Kirkdale is very foolish. It is a great pity he has not turned out better. He is such a very handsome man.’

‘I don’t think Mr. Travers handsome, if you are talking of him; but there was a sort of pleasure in his society I never felt with any one else.’

‘Yes, he had a charm, there is no doubt of that.’

‘You think so. You felt it too. O Maisy, Maisy, whatever shall I do?’ Lady Geraldine broke down into passionate sobs. ‘I am a fool! What shall I do? what shall I do?’ she cried.

‘My poor dear Gerry, don’t cry; I didn’t know it was as serious as all this. I took a great fancy to him myself, but I don’t feel as badly as you do, thank goodness.’

‘I know he is the only man in the world I could ever care for,’ sobbed Geraldine.

‘Try and think of somebody else.’

‘I hate everybody else. If I think of other people, it is only to think of the difference between him and them. He is so graceful, they are so proper. He always has something charming to say, they always say the things one has heard over and over again. He is like the Dancing Faun, they are like a tailor’s block. Oh, what is the use of saying all this? He makes my heart beat with happiness when I only hear his footstep. When I touch other men my blood turns cold, and my heart turns to ice.’

‘Geraldine, Geraldine, you are really dreadful. I’m sure it isn’t at all proper to feel like that. I never felt so about Robert. I always liked other people. Of course, one feels that one’s husband _is_ one’s husband. But still----’

‘I never thought I felt like this till to-day; I didn’t realise it before: it has come upon me suddenly. It is as if I had been swimming about in beautiful blue water, and suddenly found myself being sucked down by a whirlpool.’

‘Don’t you think we had better ask mamma about it? I really don’t know what to advise.’

‘Not on any account. Swear to me you will not breathe a word of this to any one. I shall get over it. Don’t be afraid. See now, I will bathe my eyes and come upstairs.’

Geraldine soon effaced all traces of her emotion, except a slight redness about the whites of her eyes, and the two sisters went on deck.

Robert Potter had in the meantime communicated the news to Lady Kirkdale, who was sitting under a large Japanese umbrella looking unusually perturbed. Geraldine took her place under the awning and was soon surrounded with a group of merrymakers, and she laughed and talked and picnicked, drank champagne, and made feeble jokes, quite as gaily as the rest. However, directly she got back to the hotel she told her mother her head ached. She went and shut herself up in her room. Here she wrote the following letter:--

‘DEAR MR. TRAVERS,--I am so sorry, so very sorry, for what has happened. I have been afraid you were in money difficulties for some time. Will you give me the happiness of helping you out of them? Believe me, you have my deepest sympathy. I don’t believe in society, or any of its laws. I enclose twenty-five pounds in notes, hoping you will accept them as a proof that I will do anything I can to extricate you from the difficulties in which you are involved.--Yours always sincerely, ‘GERALDINE FITZJUSTIN.’

She took the letter to the post herself. It was almost the first time in her life she had left the house unattended. She felt that every one must know what she was doing, that she was being watched, and that the post-office clerk guessed the reason of her sending a registered letter. At last she completed the business, and putting the tell-tale little flimsy receipt-paper in her purse, she hurried back to the hotel. Just as she entered it she encountered Lord Kirkdale and Mr. Clausen, who had that moment arrived.

‘Out alone, Lady Geraldine?’

‘Yes, what is one to do when one’s brother deserts one like this?’

‘Your maid?’

‘Gone out herself; she didn’t expect us back so soon, I suppose; we have been on board the _Sunflower_ all the afternoon, you know.’

‘Have you heard the news?’ asked Kirkdale as they entered the private sitting-room.

‘Yes; what has become of Mr. Travers? Is he at Old Windsor?’

‘He is.’

She sighed with relief.

‘Clausen and I went down yesterday and arranged to get his wife something to do.’

‘His wife!’

‘Oh! didn’t you know that he was married? I thought you said you had heard the news.’

‘Married? married? When? who to?’

‘About three months ago: a most beautiful girl. You may have heard of her--Grace Lovell--she was an actress.’

‘I don’t remember,’ said Geraldine, in a bewildered tone. ‘What did you say? Why didn’t he tell us?’

‘I can’t say. It’s all very ugly, on the face of it; and I tell you what, Geraldine, I’ve come to the conclusion that he’s one of the biggest villains on earth. I did you all a terrible wrong in bringing him to the house. I have to ask your forgiveness.’

She looked at her brother a long time, and the tears gathered in her eyes; then she turned away, and hastily entered her own room. Here she found her maid laying out her clothes for the evening.

‘Never mind now, Elizabeth, I want to lie down quietly.’ As she spoke she crossed to her writing-desk and her eyes fell on a sheet of note-paper on which she had scribbled the first wild words that had come into her head when she sat down to write to George Travers. There they were, staring her in the face, ‘My dearest, dearest one on earth, I have heard of your ruin. Come and let me see you once more. I will give you all I have to enable you to----’; then she had stopped herself and written the more moderate note for his eyes, leaving her real passionate words, the words which had been the expression of her inmost feelings, for the eyes of her maid.

She turned to look at the woman, but found she was calmly taking her wrapper out of the wardrobe. Had she seen or not? No trace was visible on her face. Geraldine sat down in front of the glass, and said, ‘You can wash my head, Elizabeth; I think it will refresh me.’

The woman made all the preparations. While she had gone for hot water, Geraldine seized the incriminating note and tore it into a thousand pieces. She had just time to thrust it behind the grate and walk quietly across the room when the maid re-entered. Her eye fell for a moment on the writing-table. ‘She has read it,’ thought Geraldine. She sat quite still for a long time; then she said, ‘What should you say if I were to marry Lord Foreshort after all, Elizabeth?’

Elizabeth started visibly.

‘I should hope your ladyship would be very happy, I’m sure.’

‘Why were you so surprised?’

‘I didn’t think your ladyship seemed willing to take him before.’

There was a long pause while her hair was washed, and Elizabeth was rubbing vigorously when Lady Geraldine said, ‘How is your poor sister now?’

‘The one that was deceived so cruelly?’

‘Yes. The one that fell in love with a married man.’

‘Well, your ladyship, I didn’t like to tell you after all your kindness to her in finding her that place and all, but I’m very much afraid she’s gone off to America with him.’

‘Really! She has done that, has she?’

‘I was afraid your ladyship would be annoyed, so I didn’t mention it. But she disappeared, and some time afterwards I had a letter from her, telling me about how he had got a bit of land out in Canada, and she had joined him there.’

‘And what were they doing?’

‘I’m sorry to say, they seemed doing very well; she wrote most bright and cheerful like. I must beg your ladyship’s pardon for saying it, but they do say the wicked flourish like green bay trees, don’t they, your ladyship?’

‘I suppose they do, sometimes; but don’t be sorry they are happy, Elizabeth.’

‘No, your ladyship.’

‘Elizabeth, I want you to bring all the letters that come for me into my bedroom. Tell the waiter to give them to you.’

‘Yes, your ladyship.’

‘You’d better have that black silk petticoat; it will be nice and cool for you to wear, and I shall keep to white all the rest of the summer.’

‘Yes, your ladyship.’

‘Now I will lie down; don’t let me be disturbed until it is time to dress for dinner.’

‘No, your ladyship.’

* * * * *

‘A telegram for your ladyship,’ said Elizabeth as Geraldine entered her bedroom about twelve o’clock next morning to get ready for a stroll on the beach.

‘All right. I shall not want you for a minute or two.’ Elizabeth discreetly left the room.

She opened the brown envelope, took out the flimsy pink paper, and read, ‘Have started for Portsmouth. Will write. Travers.’

That she could not prevent, that she could do nothing to stop, him coming was a thought that filled her with exultation. He was getting nearer and nearer every moment; and what was more, she was to have a letter from him--it would arrive that evening by the last post perhaps; if not, certainly in the morning. Then she thought of his being married, but it made no difference; she knew he had married before he saw her, that was all that really mattered to her. She rang for Elizabeth, and crushing the telegram up put it into the front of her dress. She dressed, and went out in the highest spirits. She was charming to every one, and made herself so agreeable that Lord Foreshort felt quite encouraged. He said, ‘How well this climate agrees with you!’

‘Doesn’t it. It is exactly the sort of place I like: plenty of life about, and at the same time everything is clean, and spick and span.’

‘It’s perfect. Our tastes are so alike.’

‘You are always saying that, Lord Foreshort.’

‘I am always thinking it, Lady Geraldine.’

‘Then you have no time to think about your tastes?’

‘No, I am always thinking of yours.’

‘So am I.’

‘There, I told you we agreed.’

‘Well, that’s settled. Now let us talk of something else.’

‘When will you begin to let me hope.’

‘You are hoping now, are you not?’

‘Do you really mean it?’

‘Mean what?’

‘That I may hope?’

‘I can’t prevent you hoping, can I?’

‘Yes, you know you can.’

‘Well, I’ve tried to a good many times.’

‘But you will give up trying now, won’t you? Take another tack.’

‘Very well. You have hoped without my permission the whole of the London season; you can hope with my permission during the shooting season, then perhaps you will be sick of hope.’

‘Yes, I shall claim my reward then.’

‘Ah! that’s “another story.” We mustn’t get on too fast.’

That evening the expected letter arrived. It ran thus--

‘DEAR LADY GERALDINE,--You have restored my belief in the human race. I have indeed received a crushing blow from your brother-in-law, and it is not fitting that I should inform you of the true facts of the case. Honour seals my lips. But although it is forbidden to me to justify myself in your eyes without degrading those who must ever be first in your esteem, your generous letter emboldens me to ask you to believe me, on my bare word, that things are not as they, no doubt, have been represented to you. I am coming to Portsmouth so as to hold myself in readiness to obey any commands you may care to issue to your most devoted adorer, ‘GEORGE TRAVERS.’

Geraldine wondered a good deal over this letter, but all the same she wore it next her heart for four days. She wrote in reply--

‘DEAR MR. TRAVERS,--I can’t think of any way of seeing you here, but next Monday we go to our place near Ringwood. If you will put up at the village hotel there, I will write and let you know what I can arrange.--Yours most sincerely, ‘G. F.’

On Sunday she took a long walk with a party of friends. She and Mr. Clausen were ahead. Mr. Clausen knew the island well, and had undertaken to act as pioneer. By degrees she led the conversation to the subject which occupied so many of her thoughts, and Clausen found himself giving her a full account of what had taken place at Old Windsor the previous Monday.